Walk On
by mmmona
Summary: Gently, almost hesitantly, he caught her bottom lip between his once, then twice. He pressed his forehead to hers, still somewhat caught in the throes of their embrace and whispered, "Wait for me." She would. She would wait forever if she had to.
1. Chapter 1

No one really ever expected the world to end. It was just a turn of phrase, an embellishment. A joke, to some. _Humans have been around for hundreds of thousands of years, _they'd said, _they'll be around forever. _From where Lucy Cooper was standing, the future wasn't looking so promising for the species. Unless you considered those _things _humans, which Lucy did not.

She fired another nine millimetre lead bullet through the decaying skull of a passing _Bobby_, as she called them. The females she had nicknamed _Bettys._ The jaw-less corpse froze and fell to the ground, it's white marble eyes still staring up at her. If she'd had the stomach, she would have stomped what was left of it's head in.

Instead, she adjusted her heavy backpack and kept on walking down the deserted highway. She could see a pile up of broken down vehicles ahead, not more than a mile, and she was determined to get to it before sundown. She drank down the last of her water and broke into a light paced jog. She didn't need to look behind her to know that her faithful German Shepherd dog Pandora was keeping pace, just a few steps behind her.

She got to the vehicles well before sunset and began the dangerous task of rifling through them. Every dead body was a potential Betty or Bobby and she wasn't taking any chances, making sure to sever the spine from the base of the skull before she let herself be tempted by any leftover material possessions.

She found several blankets, but only took the two lightest ones which she could affix to her already overburdened knapsack. She swapped out cans of beans for cans of Spam when she found them – more protein – and managed to fill her four litre jug with drinkable, albeit warm, water. She found no weapons. No knives. No guns. No ammo. A hefty letdown but nothing compared to the disappointment that overcame her upon the realization that there were no medical supplies to pilfer. No drugs. No gauze. Nothing. She knelt down and scratched behind Pandora's scruffy ears. A quick inspection to the pus-filled wound on the dogs backside assured her that they would not be travelling together for much longer. The thought of putting her best friend, her only friend, only companion in the world, down was just too much to bear for the moment. With a deep breath, they trudged on through the rows of wrecked automobiles until they came upon something so peculiar that she had to stop. In white paint on the window of a broken down blue Chevy hatchback read the haunting words:

STAY HERE SOPHIA. WE WILL COME BACK EVERYDAY.

Lucy pulled her Baretta from it's holster and cautiously looked around. She had sensed it before when she was searching through the cars and trucks. Someone had already been there. Someone had taken the weapons and drugs and most of the water. Now she was sure of that and one other thing: they were coming back. For someone named Sophia. Had they always been around today? Probably, she figured, as she gazed west at the pink horizon. The sun would be gone in less than an hour. No one would risk searching around in the dark, even if it was for a lost loved one. Then she noticed the food and drink left on the hood and a flood of relief washed over her when she saw the familiar white bottle. Hydrogen Peroxide.

She dragged the two dead, nearly dry, bodies from the vehicle and locked her and Pandora inside. Holding the dog down the best she could, Lucy poured a quarter of the bottle onto the Shepherd's wound. It broke what was left of her heart to hear the pup squeal in pain but she held her firm nonetheless. She wiped the bubbling pus away and rinsed it with what little water she had found. The dog's cries dulled to a mild whine. Lucy laid back and pulled the dog's head into her lap. She stroked her head as she sang them both to sleep.

"Hush little Panda, don't say a word,

Momma's gonna find you some real dog food.

And when that dog food's done and gone,

Momma's gonna shoot you a real nice fawn.

And if I can't quite make that mark,

Momma's gonna catch you a big fat quark.

And if that big fat quark gets away,

Momma's gonna make you a Spam buffet.

And if you ever get sick of Spam,

Momma's gonna make Green Eggs and Ham.

And when Green Eggs and Ham turn to slime,

We'll still have each other till the end of time."

A thin tear broke through as she closed her eyes and fell asleep, one hand on her dog, the other on her gun. She would wait one day and if the people who left the message and the supplies did not return, she would have to assume that they were dead. She would have to truck on.


	2. Chapter 2

"Sophia? SOPHIA!"

Lucy raised her gun before she opened her eyes. The shrieking, desperate calls were close and getting closer.

"She's in there! I see her moving! She's right there!"

"Quiet down, woman," a male voice interjected quite ignorantly. "Stay here. I'll check it out."

Lucy froze. She was trapped. Her sleepy eyes followed the dark figure through the dirty, clouded windows as it stalked around the back of the vehicle and approached the back passenger door. From it's stance she knew it was a man and that he was carrying some kind of weapon. There was no way out. The only thing to do was to hope he wasn't like the last man she had encountered.

.

..

.

_It had been two weeks since the first infection. Two weeks since her parents had fell ill, died and come back to life as snarling, brain-dead corpses. Two weeks since she'd had to abandon the only home she'd ever known with her loyal dog and a backpack full of necessities. Looking back now, as she wiped her nether regions with a handful of stale maple leaves, she wished she'd packed more toilet paper. And food. She was dangerously low on food. Water, thankfully, was in good supply. She had been following the river that ran behind her parents property since she left. It had even provided her and her dog with a few fish to eat. But they hadn't seen any in days now and they were on their last can of green beans. _

_She emptied half the can onto the ground for Pandora and picked the rest out with her fingers. It wasn't exactly fine dining but after two days of starving, cold green beans tasted about as good as hot mashed potatoes. The dog looked up at her with begging eyes. "All gone, Dora," she tried to explain to the dog, who pawed gently at the ground by Lucy's feet. It broke her heart to think they would die of starvation in just a few weeks. She wondered for a moment if she should not have left the city but then she reminded herself that she'd had no choice. Her own private neighbourhood had been overrun with the creatures. She knew it was likely worse in the more populated areas. But there were stores and houses full of food and weapons. There was shelter from the cold – something Lucy would never take for granted, should she ever be so lucky to have it again. Pandora sighed and laid beside her master, resting her long snout on Lucy's leg as they watched the rippling river flow downstream. _

_Snapping twigs and crunching leaves broke them from their peaceful meditation. Lucy jumped to her feet and turned around to lay her eyes on the intruder. It was a man, late thirties, if she had to guess. He looked like a hunter by his clothes and Lucy's heart sunk when she saw the large shotgun strung across his back. _

"_Well, well, well. Whatta we have here?" His smile made her wanted to run. His tone made her want to vomit. She backed up as he approached her. "Don't be 'fraid. I won't hurt ya, darlin'. Hell, we may be all that's left 'round here. We gotta stick together now, right?" His words might have had comforting intentions but every sense of survival in her body was telling her to run. She would have too, if she hadn't of backed right up into the water and slipped on an algae covered rock. Her head hit another rock and stunned her for a few minutes. _

_Enough time for the man to to reach her and drag her out by her elbow. He threw her to the ground and straddled her. When she came to, he had unbuckled his pants and was working on pulling hers down. She struggled but he was able to hold both her lithe wrists down with just one calloused hand. "No," she begged. He reached into her pants and his sausage fingers invaded her most clandestine of places. She squeezed her eyelids shut, hot tears breaking through. His weight crushed her legs, completely immobilizing her to his onslaught. "NO! DORA!"_

_The dog sprung into action and latched it's unrelenting jaws onto the mans arm and pulled. He screamed and released Lucy's hands as he flung his arm in a vain attempt to sever the gnashing teeth from his flesh. That's when she saw it on his hip: a shiny black Glock. Praying it was loaded and armed, she deftly pulled it from his belt, pushed it into the middle of his chest and pulled the trigger. It took more force to fire than she thought it would. More than it seemed to in all the movies and television shows she'd seen. It was louder too, leaving a deafening ringing in her ears for a long time afterwards. The thing she hated most about it was the numbness in her hands. She could barely summon the strength to push the now lifeless would-be rapist off of her. She crawled, on her elbows, over to her beloved companion and held onto her for dear life. She couldn't help but imagine all of the ways it could have been worse. Much worse. It took a while for her ears to stop ringing and when they did she heard the faint voices of other men. They were calling out for their friend, presumably the man she had just shot in the heart. Reacting quickly, she stripped the dead man of his shotgun and small shoulder bag. She still held fast to the smoking handgun._

_They ran. Hard and fast and for as long as they could. Lucy stumbled here and there from exhaustion. Pandora would always stop and lick her hand or her chin with sympathetic eyes. It was enough to refresh her will. By sundown, they came upon an abandoned farm house and took shelter in the barn. The animals were long dead and rotting and the smell made her vomit, or maybe it was the memory of that man on top of her and what he had done and almost done. She looked down and realized that her jeans were still open. Sobbing, she buttoned them up as fresh tears flooded over her pink cheeks. There were no cops to save her, no mother and father to protect her. She was alone. And for the first time, she was sure that she was going to die alone. _

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..

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She held her gun on the stranger as he reached for the door handle. Quickly, he wrenched it open and aimed his weapon at her. A crossbow stared her down. He lowered it and turned to his unknown companion. "It's not her," he said with disappointment.

Lucy used his distraction and slipped out the opposite door. Pandora followed quickly behind. They played tag around the car for a minute until the man jumped on the hood and slid across. Lucy ran the wrong way and he caught her, hand in hand. He squeezed her trigger hand until she cried in pain and dropped her gun. He held her hands behind her back until he had secured them with a plastic zip-tie.

Pandora approached him, growling and snarling. The man raised his crossbow at the animal and Lucy frantically stepped between them. "No! Don't hurt her. She's just protecting me." To the dog, she commanded, "Sit, Dora." The dog obeyed, still growling under her breath, obviously unhappy and confused about the situation.

"She's been bit," he stated as he noticed the wound on her hindquarter. "She'll turn."

"She's been bit before. I... I don't think animals are affected by... whatever this is."

"For your sake, I hope that's true."

"Let me go," Lucy demanded. She glanced behind him as a short haired, middle aged woman slowly approached. "Please."

The woman stepped closer. "Have you seen a little girl? Short blonde hair, blue eyes? Please, she's my daughter. She went missing a few days ago."

Lucy shook her head. "I haven't seen anyone. Sorry."

The man reached into the car and pulled out Lucy's backpack. "This yours?" Lucy nodded. He opened the bag and spilled the meagre contents onto the hood of the car. "You planning on surviving on this? Three cans of Spam, a half a bottle of juice and two blankets with more holes in 'em than I got in my socks?"

"Yeah, well, I forgot to stop at Costco and stock up. It's not exactly like I've got too many options. I was hoping to find more here but I guess you guys already razed everything."

The man sighed and gestured for her to turn around. She did and he cut her hands free. Instinctively, she rubbed her chafed wrists.

"You could come with us," the woman offered much to the man's chagrin. The scowl he gave her silenced her and Lucy knew the offer was just a nicety.

"Thanks. I'll be fine." She grabbed her knapsack and refilled it, picked up her gun and turned her back on them.

It took all of her willpower to walk away. They hadn't seemed like bad people, just a bit paranoid, which Lucy could completely understand. She couldn't deny the flicker of hope that had sparked in her heart when the woman had offered their assistance. But as much as she had wanted it, she also felt guilty as she knew she had nothing to offer. She was no hunter or killer. She couldn't cook toast and no one had ever complimented her on her ability to clean or sew. She was useful to no one but herself. To them, she would only be a burden. She was better off on her own, she knew, where she could only get herself into trouble.

"Wait!" She turned around and saw the man jogging to catch up to her. "Why don't you come with us? At least have a hot meal and a shower. Then, if you still want to go, you can go." His words betrayed his facial expressions. His words said _come _but his face said _don't._ She was about to refuse him when he added, "And we'll see what we can do about that wound." He gestured to Pandora who was clearly favouring her right side.

Lucy nodded and followed hesitantly as they made their way into the woods off the highway.


	3. Chapter 3

Lucy shovelled the hamburger cabbage casserole into her mouth, heaving spoonful after spoonful, pausing only to swallow and breathe. Inevitably, she choked on a small piece of burnt beef and was forced to clear her windpipe with a vicious cough that sent a dozen small bits of chewed food flying around her plate. She was not embarrassed. She had not eaten meat in almost two months and she didn't know when she would again get the chance. Her vanity was the least of her concerns. She reached for the large glass of cold milk, brought to her generously by a young blonde girl with a timid smile, and guzzled half of it down in one seemingly endless gulp. When her plate was finished and her glass empty, she sat back in her chair, exuding a false sense of carelessness and comfort. She didn't want them to think she was afraid or worse – weak.

"Thanks," she said, almost burped, as she covered his mouth with one hand and laid the other on her full and bloated belly. "I haven't eaten in a while."

"You're welcome," said the cowboy Sheriff to her right. He was obviously the leader of their little group. The man who had brought her was standing at the far end of the table, gripping the back of a chair with white knuckles. He was nervous and Lucy didn't know why. But it made her nervous. "We don't mean to pry but we'd like to know a little more about you. This is our home. It's not much but we do whatever we have to do to keep it safe. I hope you understand why we can't just trust anyone who walks in."

"I understand. What do you want to know, cowboy?" The moniker garnered a few snickers from around the table, including one from the man who brought her. She had been referring to him as Crossbow in her thoughts. She hadn't spoken to him since they'd met on the highway.

The Sheriff ignored her manners, or lack of. "Well, we'd like to know your name, for starters." He had a habit of looking people in the eye when he talked to them and something about put Lucy off. She never did have much confidence before the outbreak, and it turned out a zombie apocalypse hadn't changed that. Her eyes drifted from his, around the table and back down to her lap where she was cleaning one fingernail with another.

"It's Lucy."

"Well, Lucy. I'm Rick." He pointed at the woman beside him, "This is my wife Lori." He moved his arm to gesture at Crossbow, "That's Daryl. You've met." Lily forced a pathetic smile and gave him a nod. Rick continued around the table. "That's Beth," he said as he pointed to the blonde who had brought Lucy her food. Lucy gave her a real smile to show her appreciation. "And that's Glen, and Maggie." Lucy nodded to both of them. "Can I ask, how long have you been out there, on your own?"

"I left Atlanta about two weeks after it happened. My parents, they tried to secure the house, make it safe to stay but... we had to leave. My mom got bit before we even got in the car. My dad... we stopped at a gas station to get some supplies. I heard him scream but... I just ran." She recanted her story with the emotion of a rock, as if it hadn't really happened to her at all. "I kept running. I knew there was a river than ran just behind our house so I found it and followed it. We had fresh water. Some fish. I had a few cans of food. Pandora – my dog – she caught a rabbit," Lucy started to laugh but she caught herself. "That was a good night."

"You didn't see anyone else? Meet up with any other survivors?"

Lucy wasn't about to tell them about her almost-rape. "No," she lied. "But I figured I wasn't the only one left, you know. World ends. I'm definitely not the last man standing type."

"Tell them about the dog," Daryl interrupted. Lucy stared him down. She was still mad at him for raising his weapon at the poor thing.

Rick became very interested. "Yeah. Daryl said your dog was bit, that he wasn't affected? When was he bit?"

"_She._"

"Sorry. When was she bit?"

"The first time was about a month ago. I had some alcohol. I cleaned the wound and it healed pretty good. Wasn't that bad to begin with. She got bit again two, no three, days ago. I didn't have anything for it. I cleaned her in the river but it got infected. I was gonna put her down when I saw the pile up on the highway. Figured someone ought to have left something in the way of booze or drugs. I found the stash you left for for that little girl. Camped out for the night. Woke up with a crossbow in my face."

"Well I guess it's fate that you did. Herschel'll have your dog up and hunting again in no time. He's been a vet for fifty years, and a damn good one too, I hear."

"Thank you. I don't have anything to give you in return."

"That's okay. Beth will take you upstairs, show you where the shower is. Why don't you get cleaned up and come on back down when you're ready."

"Thanks," Lucy whispered as she got out of her chair and followed Beth to the stairs.

"You ought to think about staying," Rick added before she left the room. "There's strength in numbers and we could always use another pair of hands."

Lucy gave a small nod. She had no intentions of staying. She was better off on her own. She'd lasted this long to her own devices. She could take care of herself. She could take care of Pandora. Besides, she thought, Rick was probably just being nice. They didn't really want her to stay. She was a burden. Just another mouth to feed. She couldn't contribute, not really. She couldn't hunt or fish or shoot with any degree of accuracy and it looked to her like they already had enough women to wash clothes and cook food. There was no place for her here, she decided.

Her will was slightly broken when she felt the warm water hit her bare skin – a feeling she would never take for granted again.


	4. Chapter 4

Freshly showered, clean and invigorated, Lucy was more than ready to collect her dog and get on her way. Unfortunately, her clothes were no where to be found. In their place was a long skirt and a pretty peasant top, neatly folded and laid on top of her cleaned boots. It was a luxury to have clean, soft clothes, she thought. They even smelled of lemons and vanilla. Even a bigger luxury to be able to wipe yourself with clean squares of cotton instead of dried leaves and grass.

After the initial shock of washing herself with warm water and real soap had worn off, she'd thought only to the future. She decided she should not catch up to the river and continue following it, as her failed rapists friends were probably doing the same and she definitely did not want to run into them. Her other options were to head south or north. Atlanta was south and she knew what held for her.

North, she decided. It was already the end of September. If she could get far enough, fast enough, she could reach Canada by November. It would be cold then, snowing too, and she figured that Betty's and Bobby's probably didn't have the capacity for thought to know enough to keep warm in the winter. They would freeze, possibly even die out completely. If she could make it to her parents cabin in Manitoba, she might be safe, at least for the winter. She could even go farther north, where it never thaws. The possibilities gave her a hope she hadn't had since, well, ever.

Exiting the quaint country house, she watched from the wrap around porch as people went back and forth, each busy and concentrated on their own task, each contributing to the group in their own way. Some went back and forth with laundry, transferring it from the wash buckets to the line. Lucy noticed her own clothes hung up there. Others were out in the nearby fields, harvesting what was left of the crops. The men were on constant lookout with their rifles and shotguns, keeping the perimeter safe and clear. Lucy took special notice of Daryl, the man who had brought her here, or Crossbow, as she liked to think of him. Not that she liked to think of him, she corrected herself. She was so entranced by this little gang of labourers that it startled her into a jump when Beth spoke, ever so softly, from behind her.

"It's pretty nice, isn't it?" Lucy gave a slight gasp along with her tremor and placed a calming hand over her heart. "Oh, dear! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle ya. I thought you'd have heard me coming."

"It's fine," Lucy smiled genuinely. "I was just caught up in my thoughts, that's all. And yes, it's very nice." Beth stood beside her and together they looked out and watched the people, like ants building a colony. "Everyone seems to have their place."

"They do. You could have a place here too, you know. If you chose to stay, I mean."

Lucy forced a smile but said nothing. She still had no intentions of staying, no matter how happy or content these people were, she could not see them surviving long term. Canada was the answer for that, she knew. The Frozen North. The more she thought about it, the more she knew it was the right plan. The only trouble would be getting there. There was a hell of a lot of death between Georgia and the Canadian Border. She tried her best to recall a map in her mind and she figured if she went straight up, she would hit the border at Ontario. If she adjusted it North West, she could make a bee line straight to Winnipeg. From there it would be a cake walk to her parents cabin off Lake Manitoba. She knew the odds were against her even making it out of Georgia, let alone out of the states. And what if the borders were still being guarded? What if it hadn't hit the North as bad as it had hit the South? What if they were shooting anyone who even dared to approach? There were a lot of holes in her plan, but she was not deterred. If she stayed here, she might survive the winter, maybe two if she was really lucky. But, one by one, this group of survivors would be picked off. They would weaken, starve, turn on each other. No. There was no strength in numbers. If there was, Atlanta wouldn't be the hellhole it was.

Sighing and shaking her head of plans, Lucy turned to Beth with another forced smile and asked, "Is there anything I can do? You've all done so much for me. I'd like to help if I can."

Beth smiled widely, as if they were ten and Lucy had just asked her on a sleepover. "You could help me make dinner."

"Okay."

Beth giggled and took Lucy's hand and led her back inside the house and to the kitchen. Beth heaved a large wicker basket of red potatoes onto the kitchen table and handed Lucy a peeling knife. "You can peel potatoes. It's a pretty big part of the diet around here. We've got so many and they fill people up pretty good. That, and beans. We've got a basement full of cans of beans. Ma was a bit of a hoarder." Beth's smile faded fast. She picked up a clean pot and scrubbed it needlessly.

"Was?" Lucy asked.

"She's... gone now."

"I'm sorry. My mom died too."

Beth turned around with wet eyes. "I'm sorry. Sometimes I forget that I'm not the only one who lost someone they loved."

"It's okay. Besides, you still have your dad, and your sister."

Beth smiled, despite her overwhelming sadness. "I do," she reassured herself. Beth put down the pot and grabbed a knife. She sat down at the table and the girls began the daunting task of peeling a couple dozen potatoes.

"I noticed a few tents set up outside. Wouldn't it be safer if everyone slept in the house? I mean, there must be enough room."

"Well, Rick and his group just got here about a week before you did and my Pa doesn't trust them enough. He says he's gotta protect his own first, you know? Plus, they got all those guns and Pa really doesn't like guns."

"Oh," Lucy said, somewhat speechless. Doesn't like guns, she thought. Who cares! Even a Catholic priest could see the need for an automatic weapon nowadays, she mused to herself. Then it hit her. If he doesn't use guns, how does he kill them? How does he protect his farm? Surely they've had at least a couple of Bobby's wander through. Lucy didn't ask. She was new and she didn't want to pry or ask questions Beth would have a hard time answering. She didn't want to stir the boat. Besides, what did it matter to her? She wouldn't be there long anyway.

When the potatoes were done, Lucy washed her hands and politely asked Beth, "You mind if I sneak away? I want to check on my dog."

"Oh, of course! She's in the spare room. Just go out into the foyer and turn left down the hall. It's the first door on your right. Pa's probably in there. When Rick came to us, his son had been shot. He's recovering in there too."

"Shot? That's awful!"

"Yeah. Well, it was an accident, of course. But he should be okay in time. Pa's real good at healing the sick."

"That must come in handy. Especially lately."

"It sure has."

"Thanks for everything, Beth."

"Thanks for your help with dinner," she smiled.

Lucy made her way to the spare room as per Beth's directions. She knocked lightly and was invited in by a whispering male voice. She opened the door gently and closed it behind her just as quietly. Herschel sat in the only chair, across the bed where the wounded boy slept. Lucy gave the unconscious boy a wary stare. She had never been good at being around sick people. She supposed it stemmed from spending so much time in the hospital as a child herself.

When she was just eight years old, she was diagnosed with tuberculosis after a trip with her father – a doctor and World Health Organization advocate – to South Africa. They cured her tuberculosis but not soon enough. It left her with a deadly lung disease known as Bronchiectasis. She'd received a single lung transplant as a result and spent the better part of eight months in the hospital. Not her finest memory.

Seeing this boy lying there on the white sheets, chest covered in gauze and tape, struggling just to breathe brought back some very painful memories for her. It made it even harder to look at Pandora, also lying unconscious, on a dresser by the window. Her wound looked good. Better, at least. There were a couple of stitches closing it up that appeared to be sewing thread. They wouldn't hold for a second if the dog were awake and Lucy knew she would have to stay at least a day until the dog healed.

"She'll have to stay sedated till tomorrow, so the stitches have time to set," Herschel whispered what she already knew. "After I remove them, I'll wrap her up tight but she'll have to take it easy. Might be best to leash her for a while."

Lucy nodded and tried her best not to cry. There was a child in the grip of death just a few feet away and here she was, crying over a dog with a bite. But Pandora wasn't just a dog anymore. She was the only family Lucy had left. "Thank you. For everything you and your family have done for me," she whispered. "I only wish I could repay you all somehow."

"You're welcome, Lucy, and if you feel like helping out, I'm sure the girls could give you a job to do."

"Yes. I was helping Beth with dinner. I should probably get back. Thanks again." Herschel just nodded and went back to reading his Bible. Lucy hadn't seen a book in two months. She wasn't religious but she mused to herself that she was so desperate for the written word that she wouldn't turn even that book down.

She went back to the kitchen and took place beside Beth, prepping and cooking for the several people they had to feed.

.

..

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Note: Thanks to FanFicGirl10.


	5. Chapter 5

"But, Pa, she's just a kid! She's no threat to us."

"She's an outsider, Beth. We can't take any chances. We don't know what kind of person she is or what her intentions are. Hell, we don't even know where she came from. I won't take the chance with your life and the life of your sister and our friends."

"What do you think she's going to do? Kill us all in our sleep? Don't you think you sound a bit silly? She could die out there alone and we've got all this room in here."

"I'll talk to Rick. Maybe one of them has enough room in their tent for her. Now, I don't want you bringing this up again, you hear me?"

"Yes, Pa."

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..

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Lucy listened from the porch as Beth and her father argued about her sleeping arrangements. She thought it was cute for the girl to try and help her out but Lucy had been sleeping in the wilderness for months. Sleeping on the porch would be a welcome improvement. Besides, she had gotten used to a particular lack of sleep. Pandora would wake at the slightest of noises, usually birds or small animals, and if Pandora woke, Lucy woke.

When Beth brought her a pillow and a thick blanket, Lucy assumed that Rick had also turned down the idea of inviting a stranger into their inner sanctum. It didn't bother her one bit. In fact, it gave her the perfect excuse to finally smoke the small wrangled joint she had been hiding in her boot for the past eight weeks. There was just one problem, she didn't have a lighter or even a measly match. She supposed it was fate that she saw in the distant field, the simmering embers of a dying fire.

It was him, she suspected. Daryl. Crossbow. He seemed like just the kind of man who would separate himself, even in a time of such danger. He was an outlaw, a stranger, a drifter. He needed no one and nothing. Or so he would have everyone believe. The truth was that he was just as scared as everyone else and just as lonely. Only admitting it to himself or others made him feel weak and he couldn't have that. _What are you, a shrink now, Lucy?_ She stood up, wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and walked out to the slightly glowing embers.

Daryl saw her coming long before she saw him standing there with his crossbow aimed at her head. She took a faulty step and fell on her hands and knees, whispering curses to the night. He couldn't hold in the satisfying chuckle that escaped his lips.

"You can't even walk in the dark, girl, how the hell'd you survive this long?" Lucy didn't answer. The question was rhetorical and meant only to offend her which it did not. "What the hell do you want? Don't think you're gonna slip in my tent, either. I don't need no teenage groupie following me around like some lost puppy dog, you got that?"

Well, isn't he just full of friendly conversation, Lucy thought. She brushed his rudeness away, like water off a ducks back. "I just need a light, and I'll get out of your hair."

"Aren't you a little young to smoke?" He asked, still handing her his silver Zippo lighter.

"Not a cigarette," she said through pursed lips as she put the flame to the end of the badly rolled joint and took a few short puffs to get it going.

"Well, aren't you just a regular desperado," he said smiling.

She handed back the lighter. "I suppose I should take that as a compliment, coming from you?"

"Absolutely. I doubt there's anyone on this farm that's broke more laws than me. Hell, I'll bet besides the Sheriff none of 'em's even seen the inside of a prison."

"And you have?"

"Hell, I was a regular at the Fulton County jail. Misdemeanours, mostly. But I did a good chunk of time in Georgia DOC."

"I hear that's a pretty tough place." Lucy took the conversation as a silent invitation to sit down. She kept a few feet of distance between then still.

"Wasn't too bad. I had my brother there with me. No body would mess with him. Not unless they were suicidal, anyway." Daryl took a deep swig from a silver flask, then handed it to Lucy. She took it, trading him for the joint.

"Sounds like you two were close." Lucy smelled the opening of the flask and turned her nose up. Still, she took a small drink from it. Whiskey, she knew, from the only party she had ever attended in high school. It burned down her throat and left a nice warm feeling in her chest. "My brother joined the military when I was twelve and I never saw him again. He could never wait to leave us, leave Georgia."

"I guess I was just lucky. Merle was always looking out for me. Hell, he was the only one who ever whooped my ass." Daryl laughed then as he sucked on the end of the joint. He passed it back to Lucy who put up the palm of her hand and shook her head. She was already flying high. Daryl shrugged and smoked the rest of it before tossing the roach in what was left of the fire. Lucy handed him back his flask and he finished off the contents. They both sat back in unison and looked up at the bright stars. "Man, I haven't felt like this in a long time. If I'd have known the world was gonna end, I'd have definitely stockpiled some herb."

Lucy chuckled. "'Cause that's all we're missing now," she said sarcastically.

"Okay, smart-ass. What would you have loaded up on?"

"I don't know. Toilet paper, food, water."

"I don't mean necessities or weapons."

"What, luxuries? Right now, toilet paper is a luxury."

"You know what I mean. If you could have anything right now, what would it be?"

Lucy thought of her parents, her friends, the closet full of dog food she'd had to leave at her house. But she knew Daryl didn't want to hear that stuff. Then she smiled. "High School. I miss going to school. I miss homework and books and skipping class to go to the cheap afternoon movies at the theatre downtown."

"The world is over and you miss going to school?! You're one weird kid, you know that?"

Lucy shrugged. "You asked. What about you? What would you have, if you could have anything?"

Daryl thought for a minute. "I don't know. I miss working on my cars. My old man used buy these broke down piece of shit wrecks and fix them up. He made some pretty good profits. I took over after he died. It was never Merle's thing. I wasn't in it for the money though. I had a classic '65 Mustang Fastback. Midnight Black. Man, that baby could roar. I would love to drive that thing again."

"Sounds awesome." Daryl looked over and saw the entertained smiled on Lucy's face and his own withered quickly.

"Yeah, well, it doesn't do any good to dwell on shit that'll never happen, right? Look, I'm tired. You should get back to the house."

They both stood up. Daryl grabbed a bucket of sand and distributed it evenly over the smoldering coals, effectively putting them out with little to no smoke. Lucy tightened her blanket around her shoulders. "Thanks for the drink," she said as she made an awkward goodbye. For a second, she thought she imagined him calling for her to wait. He jogged up to her and looked at his feet in the darkness as he said, "Look, you can bunk with me tonight but don't go making a habit of it, okay?"

Lucy smiled, despite herself. She really hadn't wanted to sleep on the porch. "Okay," she replied quickly. "Thanks."

"Sure. Just stay on your side and I'll stay on mine, got it?"

"Got it," she said as they walked back to his tent together.


	6. Chapter 6

Note: Lucy is between 17 and 18 years old.

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Lucy sighed with unbelievable comfort as she clutched the warm body next to her. She hadn't opened her eyes, but she could tell that the sun had come up. She could smell the morning dew and even though her skin was cold, she didn't feel it. All she could feel was the warmth from from her companion and the soft rising and falling of his chest as she lay against him, one leg and one outstretched arm draped over his rigid body.

Lost in his own beautiful slumber, Daryl rolled over onto his side and cupped her cheek with his large, rough hand. With the same heavenly stupid smile on their faces, they opened their eyes and, as if on cue, were both overcome with the shock and horror of where they were and just _who_ they were holding on to. Like squirrels from an electric fence, they both scattered from each other, one full of embarrassment, the other full of resentment masquerading as anger.

"Thought I told you to stay on your side, girl," he said in a huff as he brushed his fingers through his short hair and pulled a cigarette from his pants pocket.

"Sorry," Lucy whispered.

"You better go. Wouldn't want the others to see you. Might get the wrong idea."

Lucy scrambled to get out of the tent. She almost _ran_ back to the house, silently thanking her lucky stars that no one else was awake yet.

Little did either of them know, they had both secretly wished to stay locked in that serene embrace, bathing in the comfort of another soul, another heartbeat pressed close to their own.

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..

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The day went by well. Luckily, Daryl had gone off on his own to keep looking for the lost girl and Lucy didn't have to spend her energy avoiding him. Instead, she followed Beth around, assisting in the chores. She spent the morning washing clothes and linens in the basin and then hanging them to dry. After lunch – mashed potato sandwiches – Herschel called Lucy inside the house.

Pandora was awake, albeit still groggy from the codeine Herschel had given her to keep her unconscious. The stitches were out and her hindquarter was wrapped tightly with gauze and strips from an old sheet.

"You can take that wrap off, day after tomorrow. Keep her tied up. If she tries runnin', she'll bust open and I haven't got enough drugs to put her down again."

Lucy nodded. "Thank you, sir."

She took Pandora by her collar and sat with her on the porch. Tearing one of her own blankets up into strips, she braided a makeshift leash and tied the dog to the porch. Pandora laid down and, against her own will, fell asleep quickly.

Despite her desire to stay with her wounded dog, she spent the afternoon with Shane, a former deputy Sheriff, chopping firewood. It took her a while to get the hang of it but once she learned that it was all in the swing, she was splitting logs at a pace to match Shane's. It was hard work, the hardest she had ever had, but in spite of that she actually enjoyed it. Supper never tasted better than when you'd spent all day working for it.

They had just sat down to it when they heard the call from outside.

"WALKER!" It was Andrea, the tough blonde who had, against others wishes, assigned herself unofficial protector of the group.

Everyone flooded out of the house to the direction of her yelling. She took aim from the roof of the RV but was told to hold her fire. The men took up arms and ran out into the field. They didn't want to shoot it for several reasons. Preserving their meagre ammunition and avoiding the unwanted attention that a loud, echoing gunshot would bring were at the top of that list.

Lost in her own anticipation, Lucy did not expect the _bang_ of the rifle shot just a dozen feet away from her, nor could she stifle the scream that followed it. Lori put a comforting hand on the girl's back. They glared at Angela on top of the RV who was clearly pleased with her shot and her aim. "I got him," she kept saying, over and over with a shit-eating grin. A grin that was quickly replaced with a guilty horror when they heard the cries of anguish from the field. They watched as Rick and Shane carried the victim back to the farmhouse.


	7. Chapter 7

It was Daryl. Not a _walker,_ as they called them. He had been limping because he was injured. Because he had almost gotten himself killed while trying to find a lost little girl. The bullet from Angela's rifle had only grazed the side of his head, thankfully. The real worry was that he had apparently impaled himself on one of his own arrows. Probably during a fall, Herschel told them as they crowded around the wounded man, desperate for his diagnosis. A strong fighter – he was crucial to their survival, they knew, and his death might mean some of theirs as well.

After Herschel had assured them that Daryl would be okay – just out of commission for a couple of days – the crowd dispersed into their usual cliques and began their potentially deadly whispering gossip. Most of them blamed Angela. Even though Daryl's wound from her bullet was completely superficial, it could have been fatal. People were scared. They thought of her as a loose cannon. They wanted to take away her guns for their own safety, but apparently, that hadn't gone over so well when they had done it in the past after she made a suicide attempt. Lucy didn't know the details, just what she'd heard in whispers around the farm. It sounded to her like the group was crumbling and she didn't want to be around when it all fell down.

Until then, she shut her mouth and kept to her chores – laundry and firewood – and walked her dog around the house a few times a day. Pandora was healing well. Lucy had peeked under the gauze and she couldn't see much of a wound at all. They could be on their way in just a few days. It was a relief. As much as she wanted to stay, to believe in the group, to rely on others, she knew it was just window dressing. These people were all just as scared as she was, maybe even more because they had so many shoulders to cry on. They didn't have to be strong and cold. They had each other. It made them weak, dependant. She couldn't afford to think like that. She couldn't afford to get complacent.

Lucy heaved the axe into the block of wood and sat down on the other side. Chopping firewood in the heat of the day was no picnic. She sucked back what was left in her water bottle and wished she had more to pour over her head. All day, she had wanted to check on Daryl but every time she got the courage to walk up to his tent, she stopped herself, reconsidered, and turned around. What would she say to him, anyway? Sorry you got hurt? Feel better? It was nothing he hadn't heard from a half dozen others already. She decided she could bring him his lunch when she saw Carol with a saran wrapped plate walking out to his lair far out in the wheat field. Lucy thought of how guilty the woman must be feeling. After all, Daryl was looking for _her_ daughter when he fell. Then it hit her. They had been together, looking for the girl, when they'd found her. Maybe that's why he was so quick to push her away, Lucy thought. Maybe the two of them had something going on.

Lucy shook the thoughts away. It didn't matter. She was gone in a few days or less and all these people and all their mess would be left behind her.

"Slacking off?" A teasing male voice came from behind her. Lucy whipped her head around to see Shane walking up with a slick smirk on his face.

"Course not," Lucy replied as she stood up and grabbed the axe. "I just didn't want to get too far ahead of you. I hear a man's ego is a fragile thing."

"Hah. In your dreams, kiddo. You want to make a little bet here, or what?"

"What, and spoil this beautiful friendship we have? I don't think so."

"You're pretty cocky for a girl who just learned to swing an axe two days ago."

"Well, according to my teacher, I learned from the best."

"Well, then you should have no qualms about putting your reputation on the line. Come on, whoever has the biggest pile by..." Shane checked his watch. "By two o'clock, wins."

"Okay. What are we betting?"

"What have you got?"

Lucy thought. She didn't really have anything to call her own. A few cans of food, a torn up blanket, the clothes on her back. Then she remembered. "I've got a Fruit Roll Up in my backpack. It's been in there a month but it should still be good."

"Alright, sounds good."

"What have you got to bet?"

"Cigarette?"

"Don't smoke."

"Hmm. I got a half a chocolate bar in the RV. It's yours if you can beat me."

Lucy hadn't tasted chocolate in over two months. "You got yourself a deal." They both stepped toward the other, leaned in and shook hands.

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At one thirty, they ran out of firewood to chop. Shane was gracious and decided that Lucy's pile of wood was higher, even though it clearly wasn't. He was true to his word and when they got back to the house, he handed her the half eaten Aero bar. She tried to refuse, tried to make it an even trade for the Fruit Roll Up, but he wouldn't have it so she took the bar with thanks.

After dinner, she sat down on the porch, still trying to think of a casual way to check up on Daryl. She planned on bringing him the chocolate bar until she realize that a half eaten chocolate bar was really no gift at all. Of course, when you couldn't just go to the store and buy one, it was certainly better than nothing.

"Just put your big girl panties on and go to him," she muttered to herself. With a deep sigh, she mustered the courage to get up. Blanket securely wrapped around herself, she slipped away from the porch and quickly cut across the field to his camp site.

There was no dwindling fire tonight, she noticed. But there was a faint light coming from inside his tent which gave her hope.

"Who's there?" He demanded, his injury clearly apparent in his voice. Lucy pulled back the flap of the tent and smiled wide. Her heart sunk a little when he replied, "Oh, it's you."

She came in, uninvited, and knelt at his side. "I wanted to see how you were doing. I brought you this." She took the chocolate bar from her pocket and offered it to him.

He actually gave a smile but he shook his head. "Keep it." Off Lucy's crushing disappointment, he changed his mind. "Alright. I guess one bite wouldn't hurt." He broke off two pieces and handed her one. They both let it melt in their mouths in wonderful silence. "I think I forgot what that tasted like."

"I think I've forgotten what a lot of things taste like," Lucy said. "Except potatoes. I don't think I'll ever get that taste out of my memory."

He laughed again, as much as his injury would allow. The sound made her smile. It always made her smile. It was like seeing a mute talk or a paraplegic get up and walk. But as quickly as it had come, it faded and his usual seriousness took over. "You staying here tonight?"

In her wildest dreams, she wouldn't expect him to ask her that outright. For a while, she didn't know what to say. Finally, she asked, "Do you want me to stay?" It took him a long time to answer. So long that she considered getting up and leaving, taking his silence as a hard no.

"Yes," he whispered.

"Then I'll stay."

Flipping his blanket up, he beckoned her to lie with him. "Come here."

Nervously, she took her place against his good side. She pulled the blanket up and flung her own over top of them both. He wrapped his arm around her and clutched her shoulder, rubbing his thumb up and down on the soft skin there. Finally, she relaxed and curled into him, even go so far as to snake her hand across his chest. He covered it with his own and all the tension and anxiety left her. She fell asleep as soon as she closed her eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

Daryl Dixon woke with the sun, again locked in a tight but soft embrace. Lucy opened her eyes when she felt his body shift. He pushed her away as best as his healing body could. "What in the hell, girl?! I thought I told you not to make a habit of coming in here." He sat up and rubbed his throbbing head.

"You... you asked me to say," she reminded him timidly.

He sat up and shook his head, trying to remember. "Yeah, well, the doc gave me something for the pain. Musta messed with me or something. Go on, now! I don't need you hanging around feeling sorry for me."

Lucy was speechless. His personality had done a complete three-sixty overnight. She didn't understand where it was coming from or why. They were just starting to get to know each other, to get close. She knew it wasn't all in her head. She knew he had some kind of feelings for her. So why was he being so cruel, she wondered.

Fighting tears, she walked back to the farmhouse and suddenly remembered something he had said, the very first time they had woken up together. _Wouldn't want the others to see you. Might get the wrong idea._ Was he ashamed of her? Was he really worried what everyone else would think? The world as they knew it was gone, corpses were walking around feeding on living flesh, and he was worried about appearances?! It didn't sound likely, even to her, but she could think of no other possibilities for why he would be nice to her one minute and so hateful the next. She knew the pain medication was just an excuse. If it wasn't, how could he explain the first night they'd spent together. Then she remembered the joint and the whiskey. Was he only capable of being nice when he was high or drunk, she asked herself. She hoped it was not the case because if it was there was no chance of any kind of relationship happening for them.

_And if that's the case, there's nothing stopping me from leaving right now._

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..

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Lucy peeked into the spare room of the two story farmhouse where Herschel was watching over the young boy.

"Hey doc. I just wanted to thank you again for everything. I'm taking off."

"Oh. I'd have figured you to stay. May I ask why you're leaving?"

"I just do better on my own, that's all. No offence to you or your's."

"None taken. Thank you for helping out while you were here and for abiding by my rules."

"Of course. Good luck."

"And to you. You'll need it out there. Why don't you go ahead and fill that backpack up with food from the pantry before you go."

"Oh? Thank you, sir. I appreciate it."

"Can't very well let you go off to starve, can I?"

"Some would."

"Yeah, some would. Best be on your way, then."

"Thanks again."

Herschel nodded and went back to reading the good book. Lucy closed the door as quietly as she could and went to the kitchen to stock up for her journey. She took from what they had most of – potatoes and canned vegetables – and went to leave, pausing for a few seconds outside Beth's door. The girl had been so welcoming to her, she didn't want to leave without saying goodbye but she didn't want to say goodbye either. She straightened her back and walked out of the house.

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"I want my guns back, Dale. I'm leaving."

Lucy leaned in the doorway of the RV, arms crossed defiantly. Dale stood up from reading his paperback murder mystery. "Well, hold on a second now. I thought you were doing good here. What's changed your mind."

"Nothing changed. I never planned on staying. My dog's feeling better now. There's no reason for me to stay."

"Well, why would you want to leave? I mean, you've got to admit, we've got it pretty good out here. Food, shelter, friends, protection. You won't find that out there on your own. If this is about proving yourself, you did that just by making it as long as you did all alone."

"It's not about proving myself. I just prefer to be on my own. May I have my guns back, please?"

"Yeah," he said, disappointed as he reached for her shotgun on the top shelf. "I cleaned it, loaded it. The handgun too." He revealed the Glock from a drawer across from the table and handed the weapons to her. Lucy shoved the shotgun in her backpack and secured the nine millimetre under her belt. "I wish you'd reconsider. Think on it a few more days at least."

"Thanks. But there's nothing to think about. I don't belong here."

"You do! We all belong together. Hell, we may be the last survivors in the whole state, maybe even the country!"

"You really think this pathetic band of marauders is humankind's last hope?"

"We might be."

"Well, if that's true, we're surely doomed. Thanks for everything, Dale, but I've got a plan and I'm sticking to it."

"Where will you go?"

"I'm heading North. It's almost winter. I figure if I get far enough and it gets cold enough, the weather might just freeze those bastards out."

"That's a big _if, _kiddo."

"Yeah, well, I figure it's better than staying here and doing nothing. No offence."

"None taken," Dale said, mostly to himself, as he regretfully watched her walk toward the highway, her dog keeping pace beside her on it's substitute leash.


	9. Chapter 9

The first mile was the hardest. She kept thinking that she should have said goodbye to Beth and Shane who she had formed possible friendships with. She very much regretted leaving Daryl with no notice or reason. _He'll think I left because of him. He'll blame himself._ She tried to shake those feelings. They made her weak. She should have never opened up to any of them, never let her guard down. She should be paying attention to the noises around her, not the nagging feelings in her heart. Those people were gone. There was nothing left to dwell on. She sighed and tried her best to shrug it all away.

"You want to try a little run, Panda-rama?"The dog looked up at her with eager eyes. Lucy broke into a light jog, nothing that would stress the dog's healing wound too much.

They finally stopped at a four-way intersection. Lucy wasn't sure which way to go. She had done her best to memorize Dale's road map when no one was looking, even made a few sketches for reference, but none of that would help her here. She supposed it didn't really matter. She had an equal chance of running into danger. She turned West, in an effort to avoid the major cities – which, if her experience in Atlanta taught her anything, was probably overrun with Bobby's. She figured if it was clear, she could take Highway 27 straight to Tennessee with nothing but small towns along the way. If she could find a car and some gas along the way, even better. Chances were slim, she knew. She didn't know how to hot wire and from the chit-chat she had overheard on the farm, nearly every vehicle they'd come across had been siphoned clean. Still, she held out some hope.

She came upon her first sign of civilization just before dusk – though _civilization_ might have been pushing it. The place was a ghost town. After scouring the local pharmacy, liquor and grocery stores, she decided to hole up in the Sheriff's office. She could think of no safer place than the jail cell. She found the keys on the body of a headless deputy. Someone had been here, she realized. Someone had killed these walkers. Lucy locked herself and Pandora in the lone cell and they waited for daylight.

It must have been after midnight when she was woken by the sound of a roaring engine and the glare of a vehicles high beams. She debated if she should get out of the cell or not. Bobby's didn't drive so it had to be humans and humans, she knew, could be worse than the undead. She decided that the safest place for them was locked behind the thick steel bars. She took out her shotgun and aimed it toward the only entrance. The anticipation was worse than anything to come. Her heart raced, thundering in her chest, her ears, behind her eyes – a fear induced headache. The front door creaked. The hanging bells rang. Someone whispered a profanity at the pitiable alarm. The beams of a flashlight moved haphazardly along the walls and floor, dancing it's way closer to her until the source turned the corner and rested directly on her, blinding her in the darkness. Though she couldn't see her target, she aimed her shotgun in it's general direction, resting the barrel on the gate of the cell, between the bars.

The stranger laughed. "Lucy?" She knew the voice but it took her terrified brain a moment to place it. It was Daryl. He turned the flashlight on himself for confirmation. "It's me."

Lucy nearly vomited with relief. She was sick of fighting and realized too late that a jail cell was probably _not _a very safe place to get caught, especially by humans who could simply shoot her dead before she could even see them.

"Daryl. Thank god."

He let down his own guard as well and approached the cell. "You locked yourself in here?! Where are the keys?" Lucy slipped him the keys and he went to unlocking the gate.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She asked, confused again at his behaviour. One minute he was glad to see her, the next he was pushing her away. Now he was likely here to _save_ her and she had no idea why.

"Here to bring you back, crazy. What in the hell were you thinking, taking off like that?" Behind him something snarled, then growled. It was getting closer. He heard it, she heard it. Neither could admit it until he had opened the gate. Lucy pulled him inside. He slammed the gate shut, turned the key and they both fell back onto the center of the concrete floor. Slowly bringing the flashlight up, they saw the decaying morbid corpse uselessly clawed at the bars, reaching through for the fresh meat that it smelled inside.

In the darkness, Daryl and Lucy looked at each other. They didn't need light to know what the look on the others face was saying but Daryl said it anyway. "Close one."

"Yeah," Lucy breathed.

Together, they stood up. Daryl took out a good sized knife and drove it into the top of the creature's skull until all that was visible was the hilt. The thing fell, it's weight pulling it's head from the blade that impaled it.

"You think there's more?"

"Probably heard me drive up. We won't know until daylight. We'll have to spend the night."

They sat in awkward silence for a long time – neither of them able to admit how glad they were to see the other. Lucy handed him a half a can of cold spam. He ate it greedily and made a show of licking his fingers and smacking his lips when he was done.

"I'm not going back with you, Daryl."

"Oh yeah, and why's that?" His tone was cocky and defiant, the kind you would use on a stubborn child. It made Lucy all that much more determined to disobey him.

"I'm heading North. I've got a plan."

"A plan, huh," he said, scathing with sarcasm.

She fumed. Who was he to demean her, when he didn't even know what she meant to do? She had gotten herself this far. Who was he to mock her? "Whatever. In the morning, I'm moving on."

More awkward silence passed.

"You could come with me, you know."

"Where? North?" He was still mocking her, almost chuckling when he said the words.

"You want specifics? Fine. I'm gonna make my way to Canada. As far North as I can get. I figure if I keep heading North West, I can make Winnipeg by December. Sooner with a vehicle."

He did chuckle then. "You think the weather will freeze them out. Kill them."

"Well, it's not like they're smart enough to bundle up."

"It's a pipe dream, honey. You'll never make it out of Georgia. Even if you did, even if you made it to the Canadian border, what makes you think there aren't any other survivors? What makes you think it's not being guarded? Maybe Georgia is the worst of it. Maybe the rest of the country is still in good shape."

"If that were true, they would have quarantined the whole state, bombed everything. Still, it's a risk I'm willing to take. It's better than waiting it out in some backwoods farmhouse, _praying _and_ hoping_ that everything's gonna be okay while people get picked off, one by one, or die of starvation when the food runs out."

Daryl didn't answer. She made too much sense and he didn't like it. Leaving with her meant leaving the rest of them behind. Not that he would ever admit to having any emotional ties to those people back at the farm. Still, he was torn. Lucy's plan made too much sense to dismiss it outright and waiting at the farm had always been suicide in his opinion but there would never be any hope of convincing the others of it. So why wasn't he jumping on the Canadian bandwagon? The world was over, it was every man for himself. He had made no promises to Rick or Carol or any of them. He was free to leave, to choose his own path. Had he been with them so long that he was afraid to be alone again? Did he need the company, even if he pretended to do everything in his power to separate himself from them? Thoughts and plans and what if's plagued him the rest of the night.


	10. Chapter 10

The morning light brought no solace for Daryl Dixon, only a slight relief when it was revealed that there were no other walkers waiting for them. They exited the building together and instead of saying goodbye, which Daryl wasn't sure he really wanted to do, he offered to help her look around town for supplies. She thanked him but told him she had already scoured the important places.

"We could check a few of the houses for meds," he offered, desperate for more time to make his final decision.

Lucy nodded and gave a half smile, affording him the time he needed but couldn't ask for. She led the way off of Main Street, toward the residential streets. He followed closely behind, crossbow at the ready.

Pilfering the houses had proved rewarding, albeit slightly macabre – Lucy kept feeling there was something _wrong_ about stealing from the dead. They found a great deal of medications, though most of it was muscle relaxants and anti anxiety meds, they were lucky enough to get a few bottles of aspirin, Tylenol, and ibuprofen – even some secret sock drawer stashes of Torridol and Valium and the ever popular oxycontin. They found a load of first aid kits, filled with gauze and alcohol swabs and supplies for stitching wounds. Lucy was most happy to find several bottles of antibiotics – penicillin, eurthromycin, biaxin – everything Pandora would need for a speedy recovery.

They had gone through two blocks with a fine-tooth comb when Lucy stopped and gave Daryl that ultimate look. "We've got more than I can carry. If you're afraid of hurting my feeling or disappointing me..."

Daryl's pride prevented him from answering. "You said you needed a car, right? I can show you how to hot wire one. We can look for gas. I don't think anyone come through here for supplies besides us."

As much as Lucy wanted to just book it out of there, she was persuaded at the idea of having a car. A non-stop drive to Winnipeg was less than 25 hours. If she could make even a quarter of that, she would be doing good. "Okay. Show me."

Daryl looked down the street at the abandoned vehicles until he saw a compact grey car still in it's driveway. "That one." He pointed to a dirty looking Ford four door. She jogged with him to the vehicle. It was empty. No bodies, no suitcases. "Probably took their other vehicle," he explained to her.

"How do you know they had another vehicle?"

"Oil stains on the cement."

Lucy looked down around her feet and noticed the dark splotches. She looked up at the house and wondered for a second who had lived there. It wasn't that much different from the house she'd been ripped from. In that moment, she hated it, hated the whole street. It was a sickening and cruel reminder of what had been and what she would never have again. The harsh sound of busting glass scared her from her thoughts. Daryl had broken into the car. He unlocked the passenger door and Lucy got in.

"First you need to remove the access panel." He inserted the blade of his pocket knife into the groove under the steering wheel and violently ripped the hard plastic cover off. "Now flip this clip, remove the ignition like so," he continued, revealing a haven of wires of all different colours. "See these two red wires? This one is the power supply, this one's the connector." He twisted the wires together. "Then take the ignition wire," he pulled out a brown wire and touched it gently to the two wrapped red wires and the car choked once, then started. "When you want to turn it off, just pull the red wires apart. Got it?"

"Yeah," Lucy said, amazed and slightly turned on. "That's amazing. Thank you."

"Now all you need is gas."

"Easier said, than found."

They found several jerry cans easily enough, but filling them continued to pose a problem. A few cars were sitting just shy of empty and Daryl was able to siphon their remains, though not without getting a mouthful for himself. He didn't waste the small amount though, always spitting it back into the collective bucket. In less than an hour, they had filled two ten gallon containers. It was enough to get her well out of of Georgia. Her plan was coming together, looking more and more promising every minute. With what he had left in his bike, they could make it well into Missouri.

He helped her fill the gas tank and after securing Pandora in the backseat, there was only time left for one thing: goodbye.

Neither could make eye contact. Neither wanted to speak but the time had come and it had to be done.

"Last chance," she said, trying her best to leave her own emotion out of it. "You coming, or not?"

"I want to."

"You know you'll be better off than sitting around on that farm, waiting to die."

"I know."

"Then what's stopping you? Is it those people back there? Is it Carol?" He didn't answer. He didn't need to. She saw the pain in his face. "Couldn't you convince them to come with us? Her, at least?"

"Maybe her. Not the others. They wont leave Rick. Like he's some fucking messiah or something."

"Then go and get her. Get whoever will come."

"You'll wait?"

"I'll wait."

He looked straight into her bright green eyes for any sign of deception. He found none. "Okay," he decided. A slight smile betrayed Lucy's attempts at stoicism. She would wait, he could come back, but still his leaving was difficult for the both of them. Finally he gave in. He grabbed her neck with one dirty, muscled arm and pulled her lithe body against his own. Gently, almost hesitantly, he caught her bottom lip between his once, then twice. He pressed his forehead to hers, still somewhat caught in the throes of their embrace and whispered, "Wait for me."

She would. She would wait forever if she had to.


	11. Chapter 11

Lucy was asleep in the car when Daryl returned. His abrupt knock on the driver's side window prompted what felt to her like a mini heart attack. Her girlish yelp and consequent flailing muscle spasm would have made Daryl smile if it wasn't for the fact that he'd returned alone. After a few seconds to calm herself, she opened the car door and stepped out. She looked around but no one was with him and from his expression she could tell that no one was coming either.

"No one?" She asked solemnly.

"I tried. They wouldn't listen. They think they're better off with Rick."

"_We're _better off without them. Rick and Shane, they're power hungry. They need to be in charge but they don't even know what they're talking about. Strength in numbers," she scoffed. "Try telling that to the people in Atlanta."

"It doesn't matter now," he said as he packed his few belongings into the backseat. "We should get moving."

Lucy got into the passenger seat. Daryl drove them out. She could feel the resentment seeping from him. A little of it was for her for offering him a future he couldn't, with any sanity, turn down. The rest was for the people he had had to leave behind. Stubborn fools, but friends nonetheless and in a world where that had become a precious commodity, it was hard to let of, even if it was what was best for one's survival. Lucy just hoped he could let them go, that his resentment didn't turn to anger, that he didn't end up hating her for it.

.

..

.

Daryl made it just past the state border on the ten gallons they had in the gas tank. They'd found a road map in a highway gas station just outside of Lafayette and Daryl was doing his best to conserve gas while avoiding any cities with substantial populations. He studied the map while he refilled the gas tank with their last ten gallons. As much as he hated it, their best option for the meantime would be to take the primary highway 24. It posed a risk, he knew. Any survivors might be watching it, maybe even guarding it, blocking it. They could run into another pile up like he'd run into with Rick and the others. They might have to ditch the car. He figured it was only a matter of time before they had to ditch the car anyway. He was pouring their last 200 miles into the tank and they'd had no luck finding any gas in the last 130. He closed up the gas tank and got back in the drivers seat.

"We'll take highway 24, get off on highway 50, follow that right up to Kentucky, if nothing goes wrong."

"That's almost 200 miles," she said, knowing that was the extent of their gasoline. "Will we make it that far?"

"Probably not. Let's hope we find some gas between here and there or we'll be walking."

"Might not be so bad," Lucy smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "Been cooped up in this car so long. My legs could use a stretch. How about you?"

"Yeah," Daryl said quickly as he started the vehicle, agreeing just to agree and end the conversation.

Lucy was sick of the silence, the awkward glances, the unspoken anger. "If you're just gonna hate me the whole time, why'd you even come? You could have stayed. I wasn't holding a gun to your head."

"I don't hate you, Lucy. Sometimes, I just wish I'd never met you, that's all."

"Oh, well, when you put it that way..." She scoffed, folded her arms across her chest and turned her head away, staring out the window. "Pull over."

"What?"

"Pull over!"

"Look, I'm sorry, okay. I just packed up and left everything I knew in this world to go on a potentially deadly and possibly useless journey with a complete stranger."

"Pull the fucking car over, Daryl."

"I'm not pulling over."

"Unless you want me to piss this seat right though, you'll pull over."

He looked over to judge her seriousness and decided she wasn't lying. He pulled the car over, put it in park and disconnected the wires. "Two minutes, then I'm coming for you. Don't go out too far."

Lucy got out, slammed the door to let him know just how angry she was, and proceeded to walk into the brush off the side of the highway. She found a decent spot, pulled her pants down and squatted at the proper angle. She could have held it for another fifty miles at least but she needed the break from her driving companion, even if it was only for a minute or two. Lucy was pulling her pants up when she heard Daryl shout for her.

"Walker!"

She heard the _fling_ of his crossbow releasing and jumped around. The brush was as tall as her chin. She didn't dare to move. They could be anywhere, surrounding her. She slipped a knife from her belt and tried to ready herself.

It grabbed her arm from behind her. Stifling a scream, she turned around as fast as she could and raised her blade high, ready to bring it down on the creatures head, when it grabbed her fighting wrist and held it back.

She sighed. It was Daryl. He put his finger to his lips and gestured for her to be silent. She nodded and followed him out of the brush, holding desperately to his belt for fear of losing him. They got back to the car where a walker was reaching into the car for Pandora. Daryl put an arrow through it's forehead and it dropped. Lucy scurried into the vehicle. Daryl collected his arrow and got in the drivers seat. He quickly started the car and sped them out of there.

When she'd got her breath back, she thanked him and apologized.

"Nothing to be sorry for," he said.

.

..

.

The car stalled fifty miles shy of the Kentucky border. They had found no gas. They carried what they could and continued on walking.

"Maybe we shouldn't have avoided _all_ of the towns we passed," Lucy suggested as they trudged down the gravel back-road with all of their supplies strapped to their backs.

"And maybe we wouldn't be here if we hadn't. That thing on your shoulder's isn't just a hat rack, you know. I don't know how you ever survived on your own."

"Well I did. So stop giving me grief. I'm just trying to help."

"Well, you're not."

"What the fuck is your problem?! I'm sorry you had to leave your friends, okay?! But you did that, not me. I didn't even want you to come. I was just being nice, offering you a way out. You took it. So, if you're mad at yourself, that's fine. Hate yourself until the day you die. I don't care. But stop taking it out on me 'cause I only ever did right by you." Lucy huffed past him, sick of being lead, sick of staring at his back, of walking in his shadow.

Daryl stopped, shocked by her fierce and honest words. He watched her for a few seconds and realized for the first time that he never wanted to see her walk away from him again. "Wait," he called out as he jogged up to her. She stopped, still angry, but willing to hear him out. "You're right. I'm an asshole. But it's not you. It's me. I'm sorry, okay?" Lucy nodded, forgiving him, but not yet forgetting. Daryl put his hand around her neck again and pulled her against him. She put her hands up, against his chest, vainly suggestive of pushing him away. He rubbed her cheek with his coarse thumb and her anger subsided and she turned her face to look up at him.

"I'm scared," she admitted against her better judgement. "Since it happened, I haven't had anyone to depend on or help me. No one to lose, either." She had to look away, too embarrassed to maintain eye contact.

Daryl took her face in both hands and without a moments pause he locked his lips to hers. A slew of torrid and desperate kisses passed between them, stunning them both to peaceful silence. Though their lips had parted, he held her face, pressed cheek to cheek, each frantic to linger in the passion.

"You won't lose me," he whispered.

"You can't know that," she replied.

"I promise," he lied.

It was a promise they both knew he shouldn't make, as necessary as it was for her to hear it. There was no telling what the future could bring and empty promises were a dead man's game.


	12. Chapter 12

"We should change our names," she supposed to him suddenly one night in front of their dwindling camp fire, though it wasn't so much a fire as a pile of red hot coals. Less smoke, he had explained to her as he demonstrated the skill of how to keep the flames down properly.

For the past two days, they walked the back roads from dawn until dusk, settling down in the woods at night to sleep – though neither of them really slept, each wanting to be alert should any danger surprise them in the darkness. So they lay there under the moon and stars, resting their bodies and waxing nostalgic, the latter more from her than him. He would just as soon forget about the past. But he conceded. They had to talk about _something._

"I mean, think about it. The world's pretty much over. We could be anyone we want to be. Not just boring old Daryl and Lucy."

"I don't know. I kind of like Daryl and Lucy. They're strong. Willing. They stick together. No matter what this brave new world throws at them, they stick together."

He kissed the top of her head and she couldn't hide her smile, her blushing cheeks, even in the midnight darkness. "Well, when you put it that way, I kind of like Daryl and Lucy too."

"Besides," he added, "It would only confuse poor Pandora." With a short and sharp whistle, he beckoned the dog who came dutifully over to sniff his outstretched hand. She gently took the small piece of granola bar from between his fingers.

"She trusts you now."

"Oh yeah?"

"She never eats from other people."

"She's a good dog," he said as he patted her on the head. Daryl laid his head back against the tree, one arm wrapped around his girl, the other scratching gently behind the dogs ears. It was the most content he had felt since the outbreak, he realized. Absentmindedly, he shook his head. Since before that, he thought. Since long before that.

.

..

.

They rose with the dawn and packed up their few belongings, preparing for another long day of nearly aimless travelling. They were getting no where walking. Both knew it was the truth, but neither was cruel enough to admit it to the other, or to themselves. Still, they plowed on, mile after mile, until their feet all but bled into their weathered shoes.

Daryl heard it first. Nothing more than a faint, rhythmic thumping that, for a second, reminded him of his old dog's tail, wagging up and down on the hardwood floor of the house he had once called home.

Lucy stopped sharply and grabbed his arm when she heard it too. "What is that?"

Daryl knew, somewhere in the back of his mind. But he also knew it was impossible. As the sound grew louder, closer, his heart raced, threatening to match the unattainable speed of what he knew to be helicopter blades slapping the wind at intolerable speeds. If Lucy wasn't hearing it too, he would have blamed his imagination. A mirage from being in the sun too long, from walking too far. But it was no mirage, and as the wind began to gust toward them and the thundering clapping sound surged, he knew it was indeed a helicopter.

And it was closing in fast.


	13. Chapter 13

The hovering giant lowered itself to the ground in the adjacent wheat field, a mere sixty feet away from Daryl and Lucy. Pandora turned tail and ran into the woods to their right. Lucy shouted for her but it was no use. The powerful sound of the helicopter roared over everything else. Lucy clung to Daryl as they watched two armed men emerge and run toward them. They were armed to the teeth and dressed in camouflage and military gear. _Could this be the civilization they had been looking for, _Lucy wondered.

The soldiers approached them. Every muscle in Daryl's body screamed for him to reach for his crossbow but by the time he had decided on it, it was too late.

"Where're you two coming from," the first soldier yelled to them over the bellow of the chopper's engine.

"Georgia," Daryl shouted back. "Heading north, for Canada."

"We've got control of a town, back in Georgia. It's safe. It's civilized. We're out looking for survivors. We can take you there."

Before Daryl could answer, before he could even turn to Lucy to check her reaction, they were being gently guided toward the helicopter. It was after everyone had gotten in that Lucy hesitated. She looked back toward the woods at where she had last seen her beloved Pandora.

"My dog," she tried to explain to the soldiers. Yelling so loudly made her dry throat hurt. "She ran off. I can't just leave her here."

The soldiers exchanged grave looks. Daryl saw the one across from him reaching for his side arm when the first soldier shouted back at Lucy. "We can come back later. We're almost out of gas. We have to go back now."

The soldier reached for her and she let him take her arm and heave her into the belly of the beast. He strapped her in beside Daryl and they took off. Lucy couldn't stop the tears. She cried silently for the entire trip. Daryl was as soothing as he could be, keeping his arm tight around her and wiping her cheeks with his rough, cracked thumbs.

.

..

.

Even though Daryl wouldn't have admitted it, they were both at a loss for words when they first laid eyes on the town of Woodbury. Neither had seen such comfort, such normalcy in almost four months. It was a town like any other. There were people meeting, talking, laughing. Children were playing and running after one another. It was life, as it should be.

"Welcome to Woodbury!" A lean man in brown slacks and a vest walked up to them. He had an obvious air of importance about him. Daryl disliked it immediately, if for no other reason than his life-long aversion to authority. He shook their hands vigorously with a smile that was much too pleased plastered upon his face. "My name is Phillip, but everyone around here calls me Governor. We're glad to have you. If you come with me, I'll show you where you can get cleaned up. First, though, we do have one rule. Only fighters are allowed to be armed within our town limits. I hope you don't take it the wrong way when I ask you to hand over your weapons. I'll keep them in my house and whenever you want to leave, _if_ you want to leave, you can have them back. We'll even clean 'em and stock 'em up for you."

Daryl looked to Lucy who shrugged, a subtle gesture of submission. Daryl signed and begrudgingly handed over his crossbow, his bolts and the .45 Rick had given him before he left the group. Lucy handed over her weapons without a second thought. When they had both been patted down and the Governor was satisfied that they were of at least no threat to their soldiers, he escorted them to the residential section of their small community where they were given a room, complete with a fully dressed bed and an en-suite bathroom for just the two of them to use.

"Go easy on the hot water, will you," the Governor said with a wink as he left them alone.

Lucy didn't say anything but it was hard for her to hide her smile when Daryl's jaw hit the floor.

"Did he say _hot_ water?"


	14. Chapter 14

"Okay," Lucy called out at the half closed bathroom door. "You can come in now," she said, mostly to herself. In an effort to _save on hot water_ Daryl had convinced her that they should share a bath. Lucy, being too shy to strip down in front of him, agreed only if he waited outside until she was under the soft cover of soapy water. They didn't have bubble bath but she had squeezed a few drops of shampoo in as the water was running, effectively giving her a quarter inch layer of foam on the surface. Now she sat as far against one end as she could, knees held tight to her chest, waiting for her bathtub pal to join her.

With Daryl there was no bashfulness or hesitation, not even a shred of modesty as he undressed in front of her, glancing over every once in a while to chuckle at her blushing cheeks and intentionally diverted eyes. She turned her head fully to the side as he stepped into the steaming tub. He sunk down, sighing with pleasure as every increasing inch of his body tingled at the heat. His arms wrapped around the basin, holding his head and shoulders above water. He stretched his legs out until his feet were resting on either side of her hips. "God, I could die here in this tub," he joked, mostly to himself, with his eyes closed. He realized too late the burden of his words.

Lucy laid back against the warm porcelain, arms crossed nervously across her budding chest.

"Are we safe here?"

"For now," he said, not opening his eyes.

"Something seems off about this place," she said. "I don't know what it is. It just feels... strange. Do you feel it too?"

"Yeah. The _Governor_, as he calls himself. Somethings off with him. But I don't think it's anything we have to worry about right now. We'll clean up, stock up, feed, and leave. We're better off on our own anyway. I believe in your plan. Head for Canada. The cold will freeze the virus out. They wont survive there."

"This place will get overrun eventually. Every place will. There's no standing against it. No one can fight it forever. It won't die out. It will spread and spread. If just one of them gets across the walls, it will infect one, and that one will infect another and so on."

"We shouldn't talk about it here."

Lucy nodded. "I feel like a princess," she said with a coveted smile. "I haven't had a warm bath in I don't know how long."

"Same here. Of all the things I miss, I never thought this would be one of them."

"I saw some bottles in the bedroom. Looked like alcohol."

"Careful, Lucy. You might betray the good girl image you've strived so hard to represent."

"Hey, it's the end of the world. Literally. A girl can have a drink, can't she?"

"I'm not opposed."

"You'll have to get out before me."

"How come you get to see me naked, but not the other way around?"

Lucy laughed and turned her gaze away. "I don't look."

"Sure, sure," he said as he got up out of the tub and wrapped a towel around his waist. Lucy stole a glance toward his firm buttocks but quickly looked away.

Daryl and Lucy raised their glasses to each other. "To... tomorrow," he said, at a loss.

"May it be safer than today," Lucy added with eloquence.

Daryl touched her glass with his and drank the brandy down. He'd never favoured the beverage but beggars couldn't be choosers. Lucy sipped her glass, not as eager to be overcome by the drink. Even here, in this walled up fortress, she did not feel safe enough to let her guard down. The truth was, she could not stop thinking about her darling dog Pandora, and where the mutt might be. _Would she stay where they had left her? Would she find food, water? Would she be able to stay safe without me?_ Such thoughts plagued Lucy. Daryl had noticed but not said anything. He was a firm believer that not talking about one's problems simply made them go away.

When Lucy had finished her half glass and Daryl had polished off four of his own, he filled them both up and stood. "Come on. That Governor guy said there was a party tonight. Entertainment and everything."

They exited the building – formerly an office of some kind, now transformed into several bedrooms. Lucy grabbed Daryl's hand – a knee-jerk reaction to the flood of people walking through the streets. He let himself be taken with the gesture for just a moment before he pulled her in the same direction. They could hear the hard rock music, getting louder as they approached an abandoned looking section of street. Bleachers were set up along the sidewalks and residents crowded them for the best seats. From the top of the left row of seats, the Governor waved and called to them. Daryl escorted Lucy to their seats.

"What is this?" She called over the loud music.

The governor leaned down, so as not to yell. "It's just our little way of releasing some of the stress that comes with our new way of life."

With a bang, floodlights illuminated the street in front of them. Six walkers were tied to posts in a deadly circle. Lucy gripped Daryl's hand but he was too mesmerized with the exhibition to notice her fear. A man jumped into the circle and raised his hands in cheer, avoiding the walkers short reach at all costs. The crowd roared. Another man jumped in and Daryl went white with awe. The crowd chanted his name, over and over, and Daryl knew without a doubt that he was looking at his brother. Guilt twinged at him when he saw the steel stump that served as Merle's right hand.

Daryl watched the fight in silence. They went hand to hand at first, both of them being thrown against the surrounding walkers, both coming within inches of their own deaths, until Merle ended the fight with a miraculous blow to his opponent's abdomen. The fighter fell and did not get back up. Merle was titled th victor and given a bottle of whiskey for his efforts.

The crowd dispersed quite quickly, eager to return to the homes where they felt safe. A few remained. The Governor, a few of his soldiers, two women to take care of the beaten fighter. And Lucy and Daryl, who was in a state of shock. Lucy tugged on his arm, asked him question which he did not hear. It was useless. He stepped down off the bleachers with Lucy in tow and followed Merle back to the barracks where the soldiers slept.

Merle was about to enter when Daryl said his name from the street. Lucy remembered the name from Daryl's stories. She knew this was his brother. His blood. His only connection left in the entire world.

Merle turned around, not recognizing the voice. "What?!" He all but shouted. He almost dropped the glass bottle he carried when he laid eyes upon his kin. "Daryl?" He couldn't believe it. He'd thought his brother dead, or still with the savages who had brutalized him. "Little brother!" He smiled and approached Daryl for a hug. Daryl was overcome as his brother wrapped his solid arms around him and lifted him off his feet. Merle let him down and touched his face, as if to make sure the man was real. "God, I never thought I'd see you again. If I have known you were the one they brought back..."

"I didn't know you were here either. How long have you been here?"

"Couple weeks. Soldiers found me outside Atlanta. Brought me here. The doc patched me up. I'd have died if it weren't for them."

"I made them go back to look for you. We saw the blood and... your hand. We saw the stove. I knew you were alive. You're too fucking stubborn to die!"

"You know it!" Merle looked behind Daryl, at Lucy. "Who's this little chippie?"

"This is Lucy. We left Rick and the others a few weeks ago. We were headed North when some soldiers found us. Lucy, this is my brother, Merle."

Lucy extended her right hand purposefully. "It's nice to meet you. Daryl's told me a lot about you."

Merle chuckled and grabbed her hand and pulled her into a great big bear hug. "Any friend of Daryl's..." He released her and she smiled, a little surprised at his comfortability. "Come on inside. I've got enough whiskey to Dad drunk."

Daryl half-scoffed, half-laughed at the comment as his mind filled with split images and memories of their father – a belligerent drunk to the day he died. Daryl shook them away, took Lucy's hand and followed his long lost brother.


	15. Chapter 15

"And I told him, you can take your suspension and shove it up your ass," Merle broke out in laughter, spilling his drink all over his arm and the bed on which the three of them sat – it being the only piece of furniture in the room, besides a small shelf for clothes. The boys laid out against the headboard while Lucy sat at the end, cross-legged. Daryl laughed too as he choked down the last of his whiskey, to be filled immediately by his brother. Lucy smiled as the boys regaled her with tales of their youthful misadventures – the most recent of Daryl's expulsion from high school for starting a fight. An expulsion Merle cemented with a punch to the principals face. Merle looked at Lucy who had barely touched her first glass of alcohol. "Drink up, girl. Ain't nothing gonna come for you in here."

Lucy smiled, blushed a little, and took another sip of whiskey to satisfy him. She coughed on it a little and Merle chuckled.

"Uh oh. We got us a virgin." Both boys erupted into hard laughed as Lucy's cheeks flushed a rosy red.

How could they know, she wondered, humiliated, as she stared deeply into her glass.

Daryl reached over and clasped his hand around her ankle in comfort. "He means you're not a seasoned drinker, that's all."

"Oh," she chuckled, relieved. "I guess not. I mean, I was still in high school when it happened so..."

"High school?" Merle was shocked, and for him that was saying something. "Damn, girl! How old are you?" He turned to Daryl and grabbed him in a friendly headlock. "You robbing cradles since I left you, little brother?"

Lucy chuckled at their camaraderie. "No," she assured them. "I'll be 18 in January. Whenever that is."

"Doc's been keeping the days. He's got a calendar over in the medical building if you want to see it. I don't pay much attention to it anymore. Every day's the same now. Fight, kill, survive." Merle lit a joint and passed it to Lucy. She took it gratefully, much to Merle's surprise. "Ah, not a drinker, but you like to smoke, huh?"

She blushed but took a few puffs and passed it on to Daryl. "My brother dealt it at school so I got it for free."

"Nice. Very nice. We grow it here. Doc doesn't know shit about growing weed so I've been looking after the plants now. Should get upwards of twenty pounds when we crop off."

"Wow. That's a lot of weed."

"Well, we're always running out of meds so it's a good substitute. Keeps the people calm too. Your brother still out there?"

Lucy shook her head.

"You got anyone out there?"

She was about to say no when she thought of Pandora. She knew the dog was lost forever, probably dead by now but she couldn't put it in words. She had to hold on to some hope. "My dog. When they came in the helicopter, my dog ran off, scared. I know it's dumb but I know she's out there and she's alone. I shouldn't have left her."

"Nah, don't feel bad about it. Hell, I done worse things to good people. It's not like you had much of a choice. Besides, maybe she is still out there. Maybe you'll see her again."

"The pilot said he would go and look for her. He promised but I think he was just telling me what I needed to hear so I would go with them."

"I'll talk to him. See if he can help." Lucy smiled, though she didn't quite believe his words or that they would bear any fruit. Merle looked over at Daryl who, during their conversation, had passed out. Merle chuckled and passed the joint to Lucy. "He's always been a lightweight." Merle took his drink from his hand and finished it in one gulp before setting it on the table beside his bed. "Best to just leave him. I imagine you two haven't got much sleep out there."

"No. Not much at all."

"Come on," he said, getting up. "I'll walk you back to your room." Lucy got up and handed him back his glass. Their hands brushed and he closed his one good hand around her delicate wrist. Lucy couldn't make eye contact. His hand travelled up her arm, tracing the soft skin, leaving goosebumps behind. He cupped her cheek, tilted her head so she was forced to look at him. "You and my brother. What's going on there?"

Lucy glanced toward Daryl's sleeping body but Merle turned her chin back to face him. "I – I don't know."

"Something, though." He could see it in her eyes, in the way they looked at each other. Merle chuckled and put his strong arm around her shoulders as he walked her out of the building. "Relax, chickpea. I'm just a little drunk, is all."

Merle walked her back to her room. There were no other people about, just a few lights shining through windows. Lucy stopped and turned to Merle at the door, making it clear that he was not invited inside. He chuckled at the gesture and her bravery.

"Thanks, for the drink and everything."

"You could thank me with a kiss."

"What?" She finally looked up into his eyes. He had that same look Daryl had had when he'd kissed her. She tried to look away but at the first sign he grabbed her neck and pushed her against the door. "Merle...stop."

"Say it again."

"Stop."

"No," he chuckled. "My name. Say my name again."

Lucy swallowed hard. She considered it but knew that it would lead somewhere, to something she couldn't take back. "No."

Frustrated, he stole the kiss from her lips, enjoying her struggle as much as he would have enjoyed her submission. He let her push him back a little.

"Please," she pleaded in a whisper. "I love him," she admitted, to Merle and to herself.

Merle just chuckled that devious chuckle. He ran his calloused thumb over her bottom lip and left her standing there, flushed and confused and guilty. She went inside the room and closed the door behind her. As she fell into bed, she thought of all that had just transpired and how she was going to ever look at Merle again without Daryl knowing what they had done, without him seeing it in her eyes.


	16. Chapter 16

Lucy spent the first day in the greenhouse, attending to the plants and crops. They had retro fitted an entire building to house plants and trees, spices and herbs, vegetables of every kind. Lucy had always loved to work in the garden. It had been her mother's favourite pastime and Lucy had taken it up as a way of spending time with her. She learned that she had a 'green thumb' – as her mother had put it. In other words, she was a natural. She could make anything grow, save any withering plant from it's death. The other women in the greenhouse were happy to have her, as she knew exactly what she was doing and was even able to give them some helpful advice.

When lunch time came around, children delivered them juice and sandwiches to eat. They all sat in a circle and talked and ate. The women wanted to know about Lucy. Where she had come from, who she had left behind, what her relationship was with the brooding crossbowmen. She shied away from the more personal enquiries but gave them enough information so they at least felt some kind of kinship with her. She told them about Pandora and they consoled her, most of them silently believing the dog already dead.

When the plants had all been tended and watered, Lucy closed up the building with Maria, the oldest of the women. They carried their picked fruits, vegetables and herbs to the kitchen and secured them in the cold room before joining everyone for dinner. The entire population ate together every night. Lucy took comfort in that familiarity as her family had done the same when they were alive.

She sat with Daryl and Merle and a few others – mostly soldiers, friends of Merle's – and avoided Merle's smoldering gaze at all costs. She ate in silence, listening to the tales Merle had to tell of his short time fighting with the soldiers of Woodbury. He boasted on about this kill or that kill, how many walkers he had beheaded, the new ways he'd come up with for killing them, how many close calls he'd had.

After dinner was eaten, Lucy stayed back to help with the dishes. By the time she returned to her and Daryl's room, Daryl and his brother were both quite drunk again. From behind the door, she took a moment to listen to their conversation.

"You hit that yet?" Merle asked.

Daryl chuckled. "No."

"Well, shit, little bro, I wouldn't wait too long. Girl like that's gonna have a line up, if you know what I mean."

"It's not all about sex, Merle."

"What do you mean?" His voice changed to mock that of a child's lisping tone. "Is my wittle baby brudder in wuv?"

"Shut up."

Lucy entered the room to find the boys on the bed, wrestling. Merle clearly had the upper hand. "If I didn't know better, I would worry about you two," she said, insinuating as to their sexual preferences. The boys both released each other and shrugged her off. She accepted their invitation and shared a drink. It seemed Merle had almost forgotten the previous night, which Lucy assumed was possible considering his lack of sobriety. The three of them carried on like old friends, sharing stories and jokes and hearty laughter.

Daryl was the first to pass out, as was his custom. Merle gave him a strong punch on the arm and Daryl cried out in pain. "Fuck off!" He grumbled into his pillow and curled up in the foetal position.

Merle laughed and finished his drink. "Well, I'd better go while I can still walk." Lucy smiled and escorted him to the door. He turned around before she shut it behind him. "Hey, look. I'm sorry about last night. I was drunk and it was stupid and... god, you're beautiful." He said with a sigh, looking into her eyes. Lucy looked away. Merle chuckled at his own foolishness. "I'm doing it again, aren't I?" Lucy just smiled. "Look, I wanted to tell you that the chopper boys are going out tomorrow to look for survivors. I convinced them to look around where they found you and Daryl. They said they'd keep an eye out for your pup. I know it's a long shot but I figure it's worth a try. You never know, they might-"

Merle was cut off by the two gentle arms clasped sung around his neck. He smiled at the comfort, a comfort he hadn't had in longer than he could remember. He hugged her back with his good arm and took in the apple scent of her chestnut hair. As she pulled away, she kissed his cheek, holding there for a moment to cement her gratitude. She wiped her teary eyes and laughed at herself in embarrassment.

"Sorry," she said, sniffling.

"Don't be. I know what it's like to lose the last thing you have in the whole world." He gestured into the room where his brother slept.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it," he said as he turned and walked away.

Lucy couldn't sleep that night, her mind full of possibilities and wonders.


End file.
